Together
by dauntlesskatniss
Summary: Mockingjay, Pre-epilouge. Katniss is traumatized after Prim's death, but when Peeta returns to District 12, Katniss realizes he's the only one who can help her get through the rest of her life. Rated M for later chapters, if you know what I mean ;
1. Chapter 1

I didn't notice that the days were rushing by. I would sit in the same place all the time. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. All I could do was stare into the flames that inhabited my fireplace and think _"That's the last thing she must have seen. Fire.". _I found myself only thinking about Prim. Only thinking about what she last thought before the flames made it impossible for her to think anymore. I wished I could join her. I wanted to be with her and my father so badly, but then I thought of my mother. I could never leave her, never take away my own life and leave her here all alone. Even if we never talked or saw each other, the fact that we were both still breathing is enough.

Sometimes, when I wasn't thinking about Prim or resisting the urge to stick my arm in the fireplace, Peeta crept into my mind. I imagined him, with his soft blonde curls and easy smile, and my heart would melt a little. Then I would force the thought out, and lock the door the held Peeta in my mind.

Greasy Sae would come by, but I didn't register her presence. I chose not to register her presence. I didn't want her. I didn't want anyone. I just wanted to sit here in my misery and think about the only thing that was perfect in my life, my little sister.

I snapped out of my misery daze when Greasy Sae shoved a phone into my face. She sometimes tried to talk to me, but this was the first time she touched me with anything. I glared up at her, registering her face for the first time since I got back to District 12. Her grey hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her thin lips pressed firmly together. The wrinkles and lines contorting into an expression. The emotion on her face wasn't grief or sympathy. It was almost... angry. She glared back at me, and I noticed that her lips weren't pressed together anymore, but they were moving. I registered sound, but she had to repeat what she was saying three times for me to actually understand.

"Your mother is on the phone. She wants to talk to you." Greasy Sae croaked out, obviously annoyed with having to repeat herself. I don't know why I expected her to be sympathetic for me. Greasy Sae was a person who believed that life moves on. So basically, even if you loose everything, you just have to, well, get over it. I was obviously not good at getting over things.

I reached to the side of my face where Greasy Sae was holding the phone and pressed the cool receiver to my ear.

"Hello?" I gasped into the mouthpiece. I hadn't realized that I was holding my breath. Maybe it was because I had finally broken out of the dreamlike state I had been in since I got back from the Capitol. I'm not over anything, of course, but at least I'm talking instead of... whatever the hell I was doing before. Now I'm actually registering things around my house instead of the fire, like how Greasy Sae has been cooking soup recently, and that the sun is shining through the front window of my house right on the horizon, suggesting that it's around 7 o'clock.

"Katniss!" My mother cried out, and I heard her sigh. "I've missed you so much sweetie."

"I miss you too, mom." I lie. "How is everything going with the job?" My mother had gotten a job at a hospital, at least I remember that much. I can't even remember what District or position she's in though. I can't tell her that, though. She can't know that the past couple of weeks I have been sitting in the same place, rarely eating or drinking or using the bathroom. I haven't even showered yet.

Mom started blabbing about her new job, how she loves it, what it's like in the District she's in. I still can't recall what District it is, but I figure out that she's working as a surgeon, which is wonderful. She starts talking about the food there, and the people, which neither of us care about, but we both are avoiding talking about Prim.

"Katniss?" Mom asks, and I realize that I've been spacing out.

"Sorry, sorry. What?"

"I want you to know that I love you. So much. And I want you to do me a favor. Is that okay?" She asks.

I feel a twinge of guilt. Of course I owe my mother. My mother, beautiful and strong, has given up so much- for what? Freedom, maybe, but I bet that she'd give back freedom in a heartbeat if it meant Prim and our father's heart could still beat. My mother has lost everything, and the least I could do was do a favor for her.

"Of course," I agreed. "What is it?"

"I want you to be happy, baby. Nothing is ever going to be the same, especially with your sister gone, but I want you to get out. Enjoy the world. Hunt. Talk to Peeta."

Her words hung in the air. I couldn't breathe. How easy it seemed for her, to talk about my sister. It wasn't easy for me, but she must feel at least somewhat better if she's working, doing something with her life and not thinking of Prim all the time, then it must not be so hard for her. And the mention of hunting. I could do that. I could try, at least. Get out into the woods with my bow and arrow.

And then there's Peeta. My mother didn't say that we should fall in love, or even spend a lot of time together, but just that we should talk. And we should talk, or at least try to. It won't make things worse. Hopefully.

"I'll try mom. I really will."

After our good-byes, I hung up the phone to find that Greasy Sae has left. Finally, out of my haze, I realized how starving I was. Walking into the polished kitchen, with it's marble countertops and shiny appliances, I opened the refrigerator and gasped. Tons of food packed each shelf, ranging from soups to chicken to pasta. I pulled out a simple looking soup and placed in a special appliance called a microwave. As it heated up, I wandered toward the bathroom, curiously looking for a mirror.

The girl in my reflection surprised me. Her long, brown hair was matted and tangled. Her cheeks were hollow. Her shoulder bones stuck out, and when she reached down to lift up her shirt, you could easily count the ribs just below her non-existent breasts. She was a walking skeleton who needed to eat. _Badly._

After several bowls of soup, three servings of chicken, and a couple spoonfuls of some cheesy pasta, I felt as if my stomach were about to explode. The clock on the stove in my kitchen read 11:28 p.m., but my night wasn't done. There were many people residing in District 12, and if I actually wanted to go hunting tomorrow like I planned to do, I shouldn't go out looking like a zombie. I placed my many dishes into the dishwasher, and bounded up the stairs to the second floor to take care of my hair and that... stench that comes from one's skin after avoiding the shower for a couple of weeks.

The next morning I woke up before sunrise, even though I was up until 2 in the morning fixing my hair. The tangles were extremely difficult to get out, so difficult that I even considered just cutting off all my hair. But no, I loved being able to put my hair into that signature braid, so I kept combing and combing until my hair was smooth and my scalp ached.

I looked into my closet for something to wear. It was too hot to wear my dad's hunting jacket, so I slipped on long green pants and a black t-shirt. I stuck my hair into a braid, and pulled on my hunting boots. My bow and arrow were in a closet next to the kitchen, so on my way out of the house I grabbed it. I headed toward the front door, slowly opened it, took a deep breath, and stepped outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well hi everyone! Here is my chapter 2 of the fanfic, and we finally get some Peeta! ;)**

**I'm really sorry that it took me so long to post this chapter, I promise that the next ones won't take as long. I just wanted to thank everyone who added this story to their alerts/favorites. It means so much! Okay I'll shut up and let you read the chapter!**

**Note: I don't own the Hunger Games (of course) **

I began to get into the same routine everyday. Wake up at dawn, eat. Hunt until noon, then go to Greasy Sae's house to do some trading. She had donated her house as the temporary Hob. Once I was done trading, I would go help people who were rebuilding the wrecked buildings. The District was slowly coming back to life, with shops, houses, and even a hospital on the way. I couldn't help but notice, however, that the District needed a bakery. I started to think that if only Peeta came back, we'd have a wonderful bakery, but I immediately pushed the thought out. I couldn't fantasize of Peeta, at least not now. It would do no good at all to hope that maybe he would move back to District 12, and become my rock again. But hoping wouldn't help me at all.

I would visit Haymitch every night before I went into my own house. He was always drunk, now. Neither of us needed to worry about being put in the Hunger Games again, or being oppressed by the evil Capitol, but that doesn't mean that the memories have left us. Haymitch dealt with his misery by drinking away his sorrows, and I dealt with mine by, well, not dealing with it. It's easier to leave the pain alone, and lock it up every time that it comes creeping out.

Many weeks went by and I kept up this same exact routine every day. I wouldn't get bored, though. I couldn't really feel any emotions at all. I wasn't drowning in grief because I didn't pay attention to it. Dr. Aurelius would say that numbing out my feelings isn't healthy, but frankly, it was so much easier.

I woke up with a start. Another nightmare, of course. I had these every night. They were horrible and brutal, but as soon as I would wake, I would remember that it's only a dream. I'm perfectly fine.

Of course these nightmares could be avoided by the comfort of one certain person...

Walking home from working on building the hospital took a lot of effort. My head hurt so much that I couldn't even think. All I could do was focus on the pain and pounding in my head. I got these migraines occasionally, but they always occurred when I was at home. I wasn't at home now. I needed to sit down somewhere or I would pass out.

I searched around me for somewhere I could sit. I was next to the train tracks, so there were a few benches around. I chose one and sat down. I pull my knees up to my chest, as if to protect my heart, and close my eyes. I'm tired, so very tired, and maybe since it's daytime, the nightmares won't get me. I'm so tired and almost on the brink of sleep that I don't even hear the train from the Capitol coming in.

The smell of cheese buns baking, the feeling of my warm sheets around me, and the haze of sleep transports me into a place before my second Hunger Games. A time where my mother would smile, Peeta would be there for me, and Prim was still breathing. A time where Finnick Odair's heart beated. But now, none of those things are true. I shake the sleep off of me, along with the sheets, and realized that this isn't where I fell asleep. I should still be on the bench next to the train tracks, hungry and cold and hurting, not in my bedroom in the Victor's Village warm, comfortable and _safe._ Something was definitely wrong. No one who is currently in District 12 would ever carry me home after I've fallen asleep somewhere. No one would ever want to help.

I take in my surroundings. Yesterday, my room was dark, gloomy and cold. A simple square room, with light blue walls and matching furniture. I had forgotten to change the sheets, and promised I'd do it today, but the stained with dirt white sheets that I had yesterday were replaced with soft, dark green ones. The shades over the windows were opened, letting in the morning sun. This was wrong, too. I _always _kept the shades closed in my bedroom.

A smell, a particular smell, floats into my open door and I'm suddenly taken back to my dream. _Warm blankets... Prim... Cheese Buns. _Cheese Buns! Why would that smell be floating up my stairs? Then it dawned on me, that one particular thought that kept tugging at my brain, but I would allow it to enter. I wasn't allowed to hope, anymore. But all the clues added up. The Capitol train that sounded as I drifted off to sleep. The windows being open while sleeping. The dark green sheets- my favorite color. The cheese buns. Only _he_ would do all these things. Who else would? My body reacts before my mind. I race down the stairs of my house, not even caring that I knocked over a table in the hall on my way. I turn left at the bottom of the stairs, and stare into the kitchen. A plate of freshly made cheese buns sits on the polished counter. But he's not there. He's no where to be found.

I ponder for a minute, wondering where the food came from. Greasy Sae? No, she would have used grainier bread. It's possible that they were brought in from the Capitol, maybe by Haymitch's request. I stand there for a few seconds, but soon my hunger wins and I sit and the table, stuffing cheese buns into my mouth. The taste, the smell, the way that the buns fill up my hungry stomach, the hands resting on my shoulders-

"What the fuck?" I exclaim, ducking under the hands that hold onto my shoulders. I don't even need to look at who the person is. I recognize those hands, big and soft. They've held me so many times, comforted me, saved me. Those hands belong to only one person. I lift my eyes up to his face, and immediately sigh as those breathtakingly blue eyes meet mine. _Peeta._


	3. Chapter 3

"Peeta," I exclaim, "What the _hell_ are you doing here!" . I must look terrified, or maybe angry, because Peeta immediately comes to his defense. He starts explaining about how his doctors released him yesterday after months and months of constant therapy, and how he found me sleeping at the train station, how much he missed me. He trailed off of his story, realizing that I was staring at the counter intensely.

"Katniss? Are you... are you okay?" Peeta asked me tentatively.

I ponder the question. No, I'm not okay. I've waited by as my father died. I almost starved to death along with my family. I had to fight to the death in a deadly arena- twice. I got threatened by the President. I started a war. I left Finnick Odair to his death and I watched my sister burn. I'm most definitely not okay, but I can't tell Peeta that. I can't tell him anything. All I can do is stand there like an idiot staring at the dumb counter.

I look up at him. His hair is shorter, and sticks up around his head like he just woke up. His jaw is locked, and his eyes stare at me so intensely that I feel faint. He's wearing a black t-shirt that shows off his muscles. His shoulders are broader.

For the first time in a long time, I feel that thing. That thing that I felt in the cave and on the beach. A stirring, a hunger in me. I suddenly had the impulse to plant my lips on his, but I can't. I can't do that to him or myself.

"I need some air." I finally gasp out, and make a beeline for the front door.

I spend the day in the woods. I need to think. All of this is insane. Why is Peeta here? And more importantly, why isn't he trying to kill me? And why do I want to kiss him so bad? And I know the answer in the back of my head. I know why I'm happy Peeta's here. I know why I think about him so often. I know why I want to kiss him so badly.

But I can't let myself feel like this. I can't be weak.

I stand up from the log I've occupied since this morning. Now the sun is setting over the horizon, and I know that I have to get back to my house before it gets dark, or the bugs will feast on me, leaving my skin with tons of little itchy red spots that remind me too much of the mist in the clock arena. I grab my gamebag- which is completely empty, along with my bow and arrows, and start walking out of the woods. I couldn't get any hunting done today even if I wanted to. There's too much to think about, even if the thinking centers around one person.

I think back to this morning, to when Peeta surprised me in the kitchen. His hands- those hands that I know so well- were on my shoulders. And they didn't even try to kill me. Maybe he _is_ fixed. Maybe his old self is back, that old self that is caring and compassionate, and is in love with-

_STOP. _ I warn myself. No thinking of that is allowed. I run over the sentences that the doctors back in the Capitol said would help me think straight.

_My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm seventeen years old. I was in the Hunger Games with Peeta. We escaped. He was hijacked by the Capitol. Nothing between us with ever be the same. I do not love him, he does not love me. I do not love him, he does not love me._

I repeat this sentence to myself as I walk through what used to be the fence, past my old bombed-out house, past the hospital that's being built, past the town, into Victors Village, and by the time I'm going through the door of my house I almost believe what I'm telling myself.

We don't love one another.

The days repeat themselves as they did before Peeta came to District 12, except I see him. I see him helping with the construction of the hospital. I see him talking to old friends. Thinking about reopening a new bakery.

We don't talk. Sometimes, we'll make eye contact, but then our eyes scurry away like bunnies running from a fox. It's not that I don't _want _to talk to him, it's that I _can't._ I can't do it. I can't let him in, I can't let him see all the pain I'm in, I can't even let him be my friend because I'll always want to be more than that.

With all this time I've spent thinking about my feelings, I've noticed that I can admit to myself how I feel about Peeta now, unlike how I was a half a year ago. I know what I feel, but there's nothing that I can do about it.

I'm in the Quarter Quell. _What hour is it? _I try to remember what part of the jungle I'm in, but I don't know where I am. I'm turning around and around but that's the only movement I can accomplish. Suddenly, I screech to a stop. I'm tied up against one of the trees, and I hear laughter. Familiar laughter. Clove crashes through the branches of the jungle, takes out a knife from her pocket, takes aim, and grins as it plunges deep into my eye-

I wake up sweaty and shaking. My hands hug my sides as I cry into my knees. This is the fifth nightmare I've had- _this night. _A new record. I can't go back to sleep again, but my tired brain clouds my desistion-making skills as I crawl out of bed and down the stairs. The only thoughts that enter my mind are about who can cure nightmares. Who has always helped me when I was scared. So I run to his house.

Peeta's door is unlocked. The blueprints are the same for each house in the Victor's Village, so I know my way to the master bedroom. But as I'm tiptoeing up the carpeted stairs, I hear something peculiar from the bedroom. A moaning sort of sound, that no one could mistake for anyone but Peeta.

The only thought that runs through my mind as I sprint up the rest of the stairs and the hallway is that Peeta is in pain. He must be. I have to help him.

I stop at the bedroom door and barge in, just in time to see Peeta kneeling on his bed, butt naked, moaning extremely loud as white gooey stuff pours from his hand cupped around his, um, _thing_ onto a framed picture that he holds in his other hand. And the shock of seeing Peeta naked and catching him in such an intimate moment is _nothing _compared to who the picture is of. Taken a day before the Quarter Quell, the girl's long brown hair pulled into a braid, her gray eyes piercing the mandatory Hunger Games tributes headshot. _Me._


End file.
